with the shy and melancholy timidity of his nature. Human beings,
especially women, inspired him with secret aversion, which was increased
by consciousness of his awkwardness and remissness whenever he found
himself in the society of women or young girls.

The beauties of nature did not affect him; the flowers in the springtime,
the glories of the summer sun, the rich coloring of autumn skies, having
no connection in his mind with any joyous recollection, left him cold and
unmoved; he even professed an almost hostile indifference to such purely
material sights as disturbing and dangerous to the inner life. He lived
within himself and could not see beyond.

His mind, imbued with a mystic idealism, delighted itself in solitary
reading or in meditations in the house of prayer. The only emotion he
ever betrayed was caused by the organ music accompanying the hymnal
plain-song, and by the pomp of religious ceremony.

At the age of eighteen, he left the St. Hilaire college in order to
prepare his baccalaureate, and his father, becoming alarmed at his
increasing moodiness and mysticism, endeavored to infuse into him the
tastes and habits of a man of the world by introducing him into the
society of his equals in the town where he lived; but the twig was
already bent, and the young man yielded with bad grace to the change of
regime; the amusements they offered were either wearisome or repugnant to
him. He would wander aimlessly through the salons where they were
playing whist, where the ladies played show pieces at the piano, and
where they spoke a language he did not understand. He was quite aware of
his worldly inaptitude, and that he was considered awkward, dull, and
ill-tempered, and the knowledge of this fact paralyzed and frightened him
still more. He could not disguise his feeling of ennui sufficiently to